Po and I got into a pretty heated discussion today as we were getting ready to go to the library. We were all scrambling around to find one long lost book under the couch or another in the hamper, and we eventually constructed the complete mountain of books we checked out a couple of weeks ago.
One thing I understand about Po, if nothing else, is his sentimentality for inanimate objects. He has a love/hate relationship with library day because, although the lure of new reading material is exciting, he is heartbroken over letting go of the friends he's read countless times over the last few weeks. He is spawn from the gal who, as a little girl, had a secret stash of her father's empty Marlbro boxes, thinking she'd saved them from a dark, lonely death. Though I've gotten over that freakishness, I can sympathize with my son, so I allow him to renew one book each time. And then I am tortured as I watch him agonize over which one will make the final cut.
Today's three finalists were all teen-geared Transformer comics. I told him that I didn't really like the books for him, and that I thought I'd made a mistake by allowing him to check them out in the first place. Po is Transformers-obsessed, so sometimes I am a bit to lenient on the matter.
"But MAWMMY! I love them so much. And you let me check them out before, and I love Transformers, and they aren't really that violent. "
Funny, I'd never mentioned violent. He sealed his fate.
"No, Po. These are going back, and I'll help you look for some more appropriate Transformer books. We'll find some," I reasoned.
"Well, Mommy. If you think these books are so inappropriate, then why did you let Daddy take me to see the Transformers movie in the movie theater. I mean, they are doing stuff in the movie, and a book doesn't do anything. It just sits there and it turns its pages!"
Nice of him to give me practice for his teenage years, eh?
